


Well Met

by Mercury Starlight (WoolandWater)



Series: Advent Challenge 2010 [1]
Category: Lord of the Rings (2001 2002 2003), Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-01
Updated: 2010-12-01
Packaged: 2017-10-23 22:29:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/255742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WoolandWater/pseuds/Mercury%20Starlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aragorn returns to Lothlorien to reunite with Arwen, his childhood sweetheart, but Haldir does not give his blessing lightly.<br/>From the prompt: "Winter meeting at a crossing of the roads."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Well Met

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place during the Third Age, long before the Fellowship and Quest of the One Ring and only a little before Aragorn's betrothal to Arwen. Because of the pairing, this fic kind-of mixes book and movie verses, but only a little bitty bit. The Arwen/Aragorn bit is really only mentioned in passing.

Snow fell silently through the crisp night air. The moon was full, but through the thick branches of the trees, the light gently mottled the ground. Winter never came to the trees of Lothlorien, and Aragorn thought that perhaps even if it did, the Lord and Lady would not permit the leaves to fall. They held a great pride in their land, and their beauty besides. He sighed to himself as he gazed at the tree canopy above. The stop in Mirkwood had slowed him down, but Gandalf had felt it necessary; the orcs surrounding Dol Guldur had grown more restless and prone to attack lately, and he felt a need to investigate the cause. The Necromancer was indeed causing trouble again, and he would relay the message to the elves at Lorien.

He pulled his cloak tighter against the cold and tried to watch for high roots as he trekked on. He'd hoped to make it to the tree-city before the first of the Hobbit's Yule approached, and he feared he would not make the trip if he were sidetracked further. When Celeborn of Lorien issues a summons, only a fool arrives late. He quickened his pace as he found the road again and came to an open crossroads.

"Well met, traveler," an Elvish voice called from the darkness, and Aragorn caught the glint of the moonlight off an arrowhead out of the corner of his eye. He stopped dead in his tracks and held his hands up in a non-threatening pose. It appeared he was closer to the city than he'd realized.

Three elves emerged from between the trees and surrounded Aragorn, bows drawn. The one in the middle, whose arrow he had seen first, craned his head a little to investigate his face. Aragorn already recognized his.

"Well met indeed, Haldir of Lorien," Aragorn said politely, though with a little sarcasm.

The elf in the middle smiled at the sound of his voice, put away his bow, and motioned for his compatriots to lower their weapons, "It has been long, Aragorn, or is it 'Thorongil' these days?"

Aragorn threw back the hood of his cloak, "It was," he said, grasping hands with Haldir and grinning broadly, "But alas, I am Aragorn again."

Haldir laughed out loud at this and drew Aragorn into a long hug. "It has been too long," he whispered, barely audible to Aragorn's ear, and the sound gave him chills. The two parted, and Haldir sent the other two elves away with a wave of his hand.

"Go on ahead," he said to them, still smiling at Aragorn, "We have much to catch up on."

When the others were out of earshot, Haldir embraced Aragorn again, but this time his arms sat much lower on the other man's torso, and he pulled their bodies close. Aragorn wrapped a hand around the back of Haldir's neck and kissed him soundly.

"Has it really been fifteen years since I last saw your silver eyes?" Aragorn said gently as he feathered his hand over Haldir's delicate elven cheekbone, "I could have sworn I saw them yesterday as I closed mine."

"Always the jeweled tongue," Haldir replied, pulling away and eyeing the ranger carefully, "But I think I know what brings you here at such a quick pace, the color of my eyes aside. Celeborn has told you of her arrival."

Aragorn feigned ignorance, "Her? Celeborn has told me of no one."

"Nonsense," Haldir said evenly, but a fire sparked in his eyes, "You know of whom I speak. She is waiting, as she has been for nigh on thirty years. She tells no one of it, but it is a secret to none; she would have your hand, if you would give it."

Aragorn studied his former lover carefully, "Your jealousy betrays you, Haldir. Was it not you yourself who referred to the time spent between you and I as a lark? A past-time? You knew of my feelings for her when we began, and you knew of them when we ended. Never forget, you were the one to end us."

"I have not forgotten. It was my jealousy that ended us then, I know. Your heart was never truly mine to touch, though you made many other parts accessible," his eyes roved Aragorn's body, "You had so much to say to me then, and so much to do to me besides. But you were never truly there, were you? A part of you was always with her. Your heart spoke false-"

"I never lied to you," Aragorn rebuked him quietly, but firmly, "You speak true, I never did give you my heart, it was not mine to give; she took it to keep long ago. But I tell you, I did not lie. I reveled in your body as you seemed to in mine. To this day the thought of our affair brings me joy and the sight of those piercing eyes still makes my knees go weak. Even now I struggle against my baser desire to bed you in a forest, in the dead of winter, with the threat of interruption close at hand-"

"Then do it!"

The sincerity, indeed the longing in Haldir's voice lit the fire that had been sparking in Aragorn's core. He leapt forward kissed the elf savagely, grasping at him as though he did not know whether to caress or attack.

The two went on kissing as Haldir struggled with Aragorn's tunic belt, his tunic, his breeches, seeming to try and free him from all clothing at once, succeeding at removing nothing. Aragorn dove into Haldir's neck, licking his ear and reveling in the scent of his distinctly elven hair, the scent of ethereal beauty itself. Haldir moaned loudly and shuddered with pleasure at the touch. Aragorn could feel his own hardness pressing into the elf's thigh and he wondered if indeed they would simply drop to the ground and make love at this crossroads in the moon-dappled grass, rutting like animals. The idea was exceptionally arousing and he was contemplating the logistics of it when he found himself being shoved away quite forcefully.

"Enough!" Haldir cried, burying his face in his hands and turning away. He continued on in a calmer, more even tone, but he did not turn around, "I cannot allow myself such indulgences. You lust for me, but you can never love me; my heart will always know the difference. I cannot stand forever in the shadow of a childhood love. She is waiting – go to her." Without another word, he adjusted his tunic and bow, and headed toward the tree-city.

Aragorn reached out to him as he disappeared into the wood, defeated. He grunted in frustration and cursed himself as he searched the ground for a dagger which had fallen out of its sheath in their struggle. Then he laughed quietly to himself at the symbolism of an unsheathed weapon in those circumstances. He recovered the dagger and sat back against a nearby stone, unwilling to greet the Lord and Lady just yet; not until he had sorted out his own head and heart.

Haldir. Their tryst had lasted only a few short months, but he did still look back on it fondly. He had always assumed it was Haldir who had held the cavalier attitude about their lovemaking. He was a typical elf, with typical elven ideas about superiority and the place of man, even a long-lived man such as himself. It would not have been beyond him to consider a human lover as nothing more than a toy. Aragorn could never have imagined his true feelings were of hidden desire. And even so, he knew from the beginning how it would have to end. Still, Aragorn had to admit he did hold a particular fondness for him, as he did for any of the lovers he'd collected over the years. He didn't like seeing him hurt so deeply over something that was never meant to be so serious. An idea struck him, and he smiled. Then he stood and started foraging for something specific.

****

Half an hour later, Aragorn strolled easily into the center of Caras Galadhon and greeted all who knew him along the way. He made his way into the Great Hall and found a banquet being made ready, the smells of which warmed his empty stomach considerably. He moved on, beyond the Hall to the Throne Room. The Lord and Lady looked as though they had been waiting for him and he worried he'd delayed too long. Then Celeborn gave him a gentle smile, and he relaxed.

"Welcome, Aragorn. I have anticipated your arrival," Celeborn said gladly, while Galadriel looked on and said nothing, "As has my granddaughter. She speaks of little else, in fact."

Aragorn blushed slightly, but did not reply. He did want to see Arwen again, very much so, but someone else weighed on his mind.

"No matter, you shall see her at the banquet in any case. I hear tell you have been to Dol Guldur. Please, tell us what you have discovered."

Aragorn reported his findings in Mirkwood and exchanged pleasantries with Celeborn, all the while thinking of the herb he had tucked away in his rucksack. Eventually he attempted to excuse himself with an embarrassed, "Forgive me, my Lord, I have a matter I would like to attend to."

"He is in the grottos," Galadriel said quite suddenly, but very kindly, "Mend that which is broken."

Aragorn blushed more fully, bowed and made his exit. He was not ashamed of his feelings, but he was a private man and he hated the way the Elf Queen always knew exactly what was in his mind.

****

He found Haldir where Galadriel said he would be, in the grottos, staring mournfully into a fountain. When he was sure they were quite alone, Aragorn approached him and knelt at his side. He took Haldir's hand, and when he tried to pull away, Aragorn stopped him.

"A moment, it's all I ask," he said gently and opened his rucksack. He produced a sprig of holly, the berries full and deep red. Haldir eyed him curiously.

"The hobbits have a Yuletide tradition," he began, and Haldir smirked at him. Aragorn looked at him sternly, "I don't want to hear about the lowliness of hobbits, I am making a point."

Haldir sighed and rolled his eyes, but he stopped smirking and kept listening, and at least that was something, Aragorn thought. He continued, "For their kind, holly at this time of year is for remembrance, especially remembrance of love, in case it ever be lost. In Yuletide, lovers pass the weed around as though it were gold, and because it is, if you believe it so. They even have a phrase for it," he placed the sprig into Haldir's hand and looked sincerely into his eyes, "This holly holds a memory of me. Keep it close and know that I am with you."

Silence passed between them and Haldir watched him steadily. Then he closed his hand around the plant and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes again, but he did not release the holly.

"She is fortunate to have you," he said with no sarcasm, "You were a romantic when I knew you last, and you are still."

Haldir stood and looked in the direction of the Great Hall, "But you will be late to the banquet. You should hurry."

Aragorn rose as well and turned to leave. He turned back and gave Haldir a last, simple kiss. Haldir did not resist. Then finally he turned and walked back toward the wonderful smells of the feast. Just before he was out of sight, Haldir called his name. He stopped and looked back. Haldir was still clutching the holly.

"I will keep it close. I will remember," he said, a hint of sadness seeping through his stoicism.

"Funny," Aragorn called back, "That's the standard response to the phrase."

Haldir gave a small laugh, and Aragorn smiled all the way back to the banquet table. When she came to sit beside him, Arwen thought the smile was entirely for her. While she was mostly right, only most of his smile greeted her; another part stayed with the holly.

****

On a winter's night, many years hence, a traveler in a dark cloak paused along his journey at the Statue of Tribute for the fallen of Helm's Deep. He knelt and placed a sprig of holly at the foot of the monument, shed his tears quietly, and continued on his way.


End file.
